“Some Black, Cracked Mirror, Barely Surviving Its Own Sharp Edges”: Steve Erickson’s Shadowbahn and the “Twinned,” Fractured Nature of Contemporary America David Buehrer (bio) Steve Erickson’s experimental contemporary American fiction has always blurred the lines between realism and surrealism on one hand and the historical and fantastic on the other. Much like the late Denis Johnson, Erickson is best known for his “visionary, post-apocalyptic novels” that “combine features of the magical realists’ exaggeration of the familiar with Faulkner’s mesmerizing rhetoric and ability to explode time and space” (McCaffery and Tatsumi 395). In fact, Erickson himself, in a 1997 interview for Contemporary Literature, has described his penchant for such skewed chronologies in his works: “Faulkner [and then García Márquez] taught me how reality ticks not to the clock of time but the clock of memory . . . ” (qtd. in McCaffery and Tatsumi 415). As critic Lee Spinks describes them, “The radical discontinuities of Erickson’s fictional narratives are . . . a consequence of his commitment to describe an incident simultaneously from the perspectives of history and memory, which no longer occupy the same imaginative space, and which often project antagonistic versions of a common future” (222–23). This simultaneity1 is certainly central to his 2017 novel Shadowbahn, the author’s tenth,2 a fictional “dreamscape of contemporary American culture” (Spinks 224) reflecting Erickson’s “concern with the relation between different historical periods [which] is underlined by the continual movement of his narrative [ ] between past, present, and future” (Spinks 225–26). As David Leo Rice, reviewing the book for The Believer, explains: “Shadowbahn marks a culmination of . Erickson’s . vision of history as a porous entity, full of glitches, wormholes, and ‘Rupture Zones,’” with the novelist’s “simultaneous histories excavat[ing] buried layers of how our reality actually is, not alternate paths it could have taken or could one day take” (Rice). Two of the main characters’ (that is, Parker and Zema’s) father, later referred to “as music’s Supreme Sequencer” (SB 211)3 and writer of the liner notes for countless song pairings he has compiled for his future-directed playlists, puts it similarly (and this reads like a succinct synopsis of Erickson’s narrative trajectory for the novel): [End Page 1] “time is a shadow-highway of successive roundabouts with After occasionally preceding Before” (SB 125). Moreover, in a 2019 interview for The Believer, Erickson comments upon the “American obsession” underlying many of his fictions, saying, “it’s particularly exhausting these days when a pall hangs over everything that I think and feel about this country that’s become . some black, cracked mirror, barely surviving its own sharp edges” (qtd. in Knipfel). The trope of the mirror, as well as other reflective dualities and “twinnings” (Maazel BR 18), takes on both self-reflexive and inter / metatextual resonances in Shadowbahn. In fact, binaries and mirror / shadow images seem to structure the novel’s otherwise fragmented, disjointed narrative, “composed [as it is] of lists, snippets of dialogue, newspaper clippings, and free-floating paragraphs” (Rice). After the “Twin Towers” of the World Trade Center materialize inexplicably in the Dakota Badlands twenty years after their fall, everyone who makes the pilgrimage there—including the interracial brother and sister pair of Parker and Zema (who first appeared with their father Alexander “Zan” Nordhoc, a stand-in for “the world-famous author” himself [that is, Erickson], as he self-deprecatingly quips, in Erickson’s 2012 novel These Dreams of You)—“simply bears witness to the twin ghosts and whatever three thousand human ghosts haunt it” (SB 16). Throughout Shadowbahn, the name for “the secret highway . . . that cuts through the heart of the country with impunity” (SB 53), Erickson posits with his multiple pairings or twins—including the ghost of Jesse Garon Presley, the stillborn twin brother of Elvis, among others—“an alt-history that redefines the trajectory of American [culture and society]” at large (Maazel BR 18). More somberly if presciently, Erickson’s “historiographic metafiction” (Hutcheon 5) also looks ahead to an extremely near future in which the once-United States (now split into separate “Union” and “Disunion” territories) is socially, racially, and politically divided or rent beyond repair— that is, to...